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A VISION OF REPENTANCE.
I saw a famous fountain, in niy dream,
Where shady path-ways to a valley led; A weeping willow lay upon that stream,
And all around the fountain brink were spread Wide-branching trees, with dark green leaf rich clad, Forming a doubtful twilight-desolate and sad.
The place was such, that whoso enter'd in,
Disrobed was of every earthly thought,
Or to the world's first innocence was brought ;
A most strange calm stole o'er my soothed sprite;
Long time I stood, and longer had I staid, When, lo! I saw, saw by the sweet nioon-light,
Which came in silence o'er that silent shade, Where, near the fountain, SOMETHING like DESPAIR Made, of that weeping willow, garlands for her hair.
And eke with painful fingers she inwove
Many an uncouth stem of savage thorn“ The willow garland, that was for her love,
And these her bleeding temples would adorn.” With sighs her heart nigh burst, salt tears fast fell, As mournfully she bended o'er that sacred well.
To whom when I addrest myself to speak,
She lifted up her eyes, and nothing said ;
And, gath’ring up her loose attire, she fled
Revolving in my mind what this should mean,
And why that lovely lady plained so, Perplex'd in thought at that mysterious scene,
And doubting if 'twere best to stay or go, I cast mine eyes in wistful gaze around,
[sound When from the shades came slow a small and plaintive
" Psyche am I, who love to dwell
At thy feet what thou dost see
If haply so my day of grace
". Why dost thou weep, thou gentle maid!
“O! I have done a deed of shame,
“ And who the promised spouse ? declare :
“ Severe and saintly righteousness
A wretched sinful creature, I
Soon to these murky shades I came,
“ Now Christ restore thee soon”-I said, And thenceforth all my dream was fled.
SONNET.--TO MY SISTER. IF from my lips some angry accents fell, Peevish complaint, or harsh reproof unkind, 'Twas but the error of a sickly mind And troubled thoughts, clouding the purer well, And waters clear, of Reason ; and for me Let this my verse the poor atonement beMy verse, which thou to praise wert ever inclined Too highly, and with a partial eye to see No blemish. Thou to me didst ever show Kindest atfection; and would oft-times lend An ear to the desponding love-sick lay, Weeping my sorrows with me, who repay But ill the mighty debt of love I owe, Mary, to thee, my sister and my friend.
THE BANISHED MAN.
DEAR distant land, whose mountains blue
Those well-known cliffs, whose shadows throw Soft coolness o'er the beach below, Where I so oft, a happy child, Picking or shell or weed, beguiled Light reckless hours, that passed away, Like night-sparks on the briny spray, Dear pleasant shore, thy sandy bed These feet unblessed no more shall tread !
Still thy rich vales, with autumn's store
Thy wild pipe, touched with rustic hands, Thy reapers' song from merry bands;
Thy boatman's call and dashing oar,
Happy is he, beyond all gain, Who holds in thee his free domain, And rores with careless feet at will O'er his paternal mead and hill, And stores the fruit his harvests yield From his own orchard and his field ! Happy is he who leads at dawn His harnessed steers across thy lawn ! Yea, happy he, bent down with toil, Whose glistening brow bedews thy soil !
How gently heaves the evening sea, As all things homeward tend to thee! Borne lightly on the gentle gale, Now homeward points each little sail ! Far, screaming from their airy height, The sea.fowl homeward take their flight; The floating plank and spreading weed Upon the setting current speed; The light cloud passes on the wind, While I alone am left behind.
An, woe is me! where shall I stray,
Rise, surgy deep! ye wild winds blow, And whelm my bark these waves below! Then bear me to my native land : A breathless corse upon her strand,